


But My Love This Cannot Be

by UniversesVisiting



Series: Hiraeth [2]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Ballet, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Reincarnation, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 10:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniversesVisiting/pseuds/UniversesVisiting
Summary: And it is then, that Brian has an idea.„How would you like it“, he asks his grandchildren, pulling up Freddie‘s blanket and turning his body so Alexander can see him too, „if we went to see the REAL Sugar Plum Fairy?“





	But My Love This Cannot Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrooklynBugleBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrooklynBugleBoy/gifts).
  * Inspired by [For so many years have gone, though I'm older but a year](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952421) by [BrooklynBugleBoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrooklynBugleBoy/pseuds/BrooklynBugleBoy). 



> Hello lovelies, just so you all know, this is NOT a stand-alone. It's an alternative POV for the first chapter of BrooklynBugleBoy's wonderful, amazing, heartbreaking, PERFECT fanfic 'For so many years have gone, though I'm older but a year'. If you haven't read hers, this one won't make much... or really ANY kind of sense. Also, if you haven't read it yet... what the hell are you doing here, go and READ IT! 
> 
> Cherry, this one's for you as my (very, VERY) belated Christmas Present, I really really hope you like it. Love you bby <3

It starts with Louisa. 

When she drops Alexander and Freddie off, on the second Friday of the month as usual, her hair in disarray and stoically ignoring both of her phones ringing at the same time, one of her grumbled comments catches Brian’s attention. He turns away from the living room, where Anita is hugging the living daylights out of Alexander and focuses on his daughter. 

„- and they have been obsessed with this weird Barbie movie, I have no idea what to do to get them away from it“, Louisa huffs as she straightens up, still ignoring her phones as she wipes her hair out of her eyes, „They‘ve watched it six times this week, can you believe it?“ 

Brian feels his eyebrows rise, but wisely keeps his mouth shut. His daughter may complain about her children’s media consumption every other day but _Brian_ agreeing with her is an entirely different issue and will inevitably lead to a whispered argument about Brian’s involvement in his grand-children’s upbringing and old people not understanding technology _anway_. Since Brian isn’t particularly interested in listening to his daughter’s vast array of passive-aggressive arguments he says nothing and simply hums in non-committal agreement. 

Louisa swipes at her hair again, fiddles with it for a moment and then gives up, obviously resigning herself to looking like she had just survived a hurricane. 

„I packed it, so if they want to watch it you won’t have to stream it. Try to make them watch it less, but if they don’t“, she shrugs her shoulders and finally reaches for one of her phones, „It doesn’t matter, a few more times and they should be sick of it anyway“ 

She thrusts her children’s bags at Brian who takes them while juggling his half-empty tea-cup and the door behind Louisa as she calls into the house. 

„You two terrors be GOOD for grandpa and grandma, you hear me!?“ 

Garbled noises answer her that, even to Brian’s trained ears, sounds like his grandchildren are trying to gargle with chalk but Louisa seems satisfied, hugs him with the all the impulsiveness she has passed on to her children, calls a goodbye to Anita and then flies out of the door and back into the rainy December evening. 

Shaking his head with a fond smile Brian closes the door, trapping the heat and the scent of nutmeg and warm vanilla inside the house and goes to rescue his wife who, at this point, is positively buried under their over-enthusiastic grandchildren. 

Later that evening Brian and Anita, true to Louisa‘s prediction, have been commandeered to sit in front of the TV with one grandchild in each lap as they watch the youngest snow fairy in _‚Barbie in The Nutcracker‘_ twirl around Clara in an attempt to get her to dance with her and her sisters.

It’s nice, Brian thinks as he catches Anita’s gaze and smiles as she leans into him so that they are all snuggled up against each other on the couch, unnoticed by the children who are banned by the music on the screen. There is very little Brian would rather spend his evening doing than drink hot chocolate and listen to his grandkids argue if the snow fairies or the flower fairies are the better dancers. 

It’s rather charming, Brian muses, even if the movie is vastly different from what he remembers the original story of the Nutcracker being. 

(Once upon a time Brian, Roger and John, plus spouses, had spent every other weekend getting dragged to what felt like every ballet production in existence. And the Nutcracker, to Brian’s admittedly hazy knowledge of the piece, had not, in fact, involved Clara and the Sugar Plum Fairy being one and the same person or ANYONE called Captain Candy.)

It is however very much perfect for watching it with young children. Alexander and Freddie are spell-bound, so much so that Brian nearly doubts his daughter’s words as to how often the children had watched the movie already, if both of them hadn’t been able to speak every line along with the characters.

They watch as the Mouse King opens the magical amulet that sends Clara back into the real world only to find the prince again in her aunt’s mysterious guest. As they dance one last time Brian can’t help but tighten his arms around his loved ones, utterly content for the moment. 

When Anita looks at the clock and realizes it’s nearly half past ten both Freddie and Alexander grumble, but since both of them are yawning, their argument („We aren’t tired, grandma, we’re not, can we watch it again?“) loses most of its impact. After a few minutes of gentle prodding their grandchildren let themselves be herded into the bathroom and while Anita goes to turn down the beds and lower the thermostats, so the children don’t sweat at night, Brian helps Freddie brush her teeth and gently convinces Alexander that he doesn’t need Brian’s shaving cream quite yet. 

Brian, who is used to his grandchildren making more of a fuss, is pleasantly surprised when they snuggle into bed almost as soon as he and Anita cover them with their comforters. Alexander, through a yawn that seems bigger than his own head, asks for another goodnight kiss when the sudden sound of Anita’s mobile echoes through the house. His wife, bless her, gently extricates herself from her grandkids and tells them goodnight before she leaves. The last thing Brian hears of her is the door to the lounge closing as she asks „Do you know what time it is?“

Freddie, who had already destroyed the careful ponytail Brian had put her hair into by smushing her face into the pillow with reckless abandon, is the one who asks. 

„Grandpa, can we watch the movie again tomorrow?“ 

Brian smiles and gently pulls her hair out of her mouth: „You like it so much that you need to see it again?“ 

Freddie nods, ruining Brian’s efforts for her hair yet again, and Alexander, from the next bed over adds: „The Sugarplum Princess is the best! Clara and Eric are so cool!“ 

And it is then, that Brian has an idea. 

„How would you like it“, he asks his grandchildren, pulling up Freddie‘s blanket and turning his body so Alexander can see him too, „if we went to see the REAL Sugar Plum Fairy?“ 

Chagrinned Brian realizes a second too late that he should probably have waited with that question for a time when his grandchildren were not supposed to go to bed. Freddie‘s and Alexander’s eyes widen with delighted shock and his grandson whispers, his voice barely audible: „The REAL one? Can we?!“ 

Brian can’t help but smile at the delighted gasp Freddie let’s out and nods gently: „Of course we can. She’s at the ballet. We can get tickets and go see her.“ 

Alexander and Freddie share a look across the beds and then both of them nod with their hair flying everywhere, their faces filled with so much enthusiastic delight it makes Brian’s heart clench with love. 

It is nearly impossible to get them to sleep afterwards, but Brian can’t regret his decision. Finally, the long day and the excitement win out and when Brian gently closes the door after himself, both of his grandchildren are asleep. For a moment he pauses, his head resting against the wood as he stares out of the large window overlooking the stairs, straight up into the night sky. The he breathes out, straightens, mouths a quick “Love you” at the stars, and turns to go and clean up the living room before he and Anita go to bed.

When Anita comes to find him, Brian is in the kitchen where he is washing the cups and plates from the evening. He can’t help but smile as she hugs him from behind and he turns in her embrace, kisses her gently and asks: 

“So, how do you feel about going to the ballet this weekend?”

_______________

In the end things don’t go quite as smoothly as planned. Anita, who is more than happy for an evening at the Royal Ballet gets another call only two hours before they plan to leave for the evening and the way her face falls as she listens to the person at the other end already tells Brian everything he needs to know. His hand wanders to his own mobile, ready to cancel their reservation but Anita won’t hear of it. 

“Look at them”, she tells him, gesturing to Freddie and Alexander who are sitting at the dining table, painting with water colors, and who have been practically vibrating with impatience since waking up that day, “They’ll be heartbroken. We didn’t bully that poor man on the phone into making a reservation last minute, just so you can cancel now” 

So Brian submits himself to his wife’s superior judgement and takes his grandchildren out to see the _Nutcracker_ while Anita takes the car to go and see her sister who has apparently just broken her left arm and is now in desperate need of a pair of hands that can still operate both thumbs. 

When they sit down in the theatre Brian, on specific request from Freddie and Alexander, settles himself in between them and offers his hands for squeezing, holding and all sorts of excited tugging. 

The lights dim and Brian, who has never had any particular fancy for ballet, watches his grandchildren more than he watches the actual stage. The absolute focus on their tiny faces makes something inside him soften even more than it normally does for them. Alexander gasps as Clara is thrown into the fight between the mouse king and the soldiers and Freddie leans forward in her seat until she nearly topples out of it, her eyes alight with wonder as the snowflakes start their dance. They are completely spell-bound, and Brian couldn’t be happier. 

For the intermission they leave their seats and after Brian, by shameless exploiting his status as ‘fragile senior citizen’, has victoriously fought his way through the masses of people that fall onto the snack counter like starved hyenas, Freddie and Alexander chatter without pause until the gong for the second act sounds through the atrium. 

Once more they settle themselves, Freddie and Alexander nearly vibrating out of their seats with excitement, and as the stage lights flare Brain sits back and goes back to watching his grandchildren fall in love with the ballet a bit more. 

Clara and the Prince arrive in the kingdom of Sweets and Brian watches the children’s eyes nearly double in size at the beautifully intricate stage-settings. Then there is a tiny gasp from Freddie and a near silent whisper from Alexander (“That’s her!”) as the music swells from the orchestra and Brian can’t help but squeeze his granddaughter’s hand gently before he looks back to the stage. 

It’s sudden. An unexpected, inexplicable shiver that runs up his spine, like a warning brush of hot air along his back. Brian stills. His eyes are trained on the back of the seat in front of him and the strange shudder makes his hands shake before the resounding silence that suddenly rings from the orchestra forces his gaze back to the play.

On stage, the Sugar Plum Fairy, for it can only be her in a beautifully designed costume made of soft pink- and cream-colored fabrics and an intricate tutu and with her golden hair done up around a tiara, has arrived and is welcoming Clara and the Prince to their kingdom. 

Brian stares, can’t help himself as he watches the Sugar Plum Fairy float across the stage, calling her subjects to dance for Clara and the Prince before she strides off stage again as the actors on stage begin their dances. 

Brian breathes. Something is stuck in his chest, something that feels like it has wrapped itself around his heart, around his lungs and will squeeze the air out of him if he lets it. He watches, with un-seeing eyes as Chocolat, Café and Thé are danced and claps along with the rest of the audience even as he tries and fails to explain his sudden terrifying need to see the Sugar Plum Fairy again, just once, to see what it was about her that had shaken him so. 

When she does come Brian barely holds himself back from leaning forward with his grandchildren. Instead he leans back and watches as the Sugar Plum Fairy begins her own tribute with her Cavalier. She is ethereal, he thinks as he watches, riveted by the ballerina’s sheer presence on stage, nearly weightless. Her feet are soundless even as she jumps, as the cavalier lifts her and sets her back down. She moves as if the music doesn’t surround her but comes from within her, like her pulse beats in tune to the song. It’s lyrical, watching her twirl, a gentle, inexplicably mischievous tilt to her smile that compliments her dancing so perfectly it makes Brian want to smile too. 

There is something at the edge of his consciousness, something that still makes Brian’s hand shake, something that has him hold his breath as the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier fly through their dance, looking so in love it nearly hurts to watch. 

It’s her, Brian thinks, eyes tracking the ballerina across the stage. Something about her makes a note ring inside of him, like a long-untouched guitar string suddenly being struck after years of silence. It is achingly familiar and at the same time completely alien, as if someone had taken a familiar, well-loved candid polaroid and turned it into a classical painting. 

It is during the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy that Brian realizes that he has been smiling for some time and he can’t bring himself to stop. When the Fairy looks up and gives Clara, who sits at the sidelines, the first real, full-blown smile of the evening Brian suddenly, wildly, inappropriately aches to hear her speak. 

It hits him like a falling hammer. 

He wants to hear the voice that belongs to the heavily made up face, to that beautiful smile that makes his heart tremble with something that feels terrifyingly like yearning, that seems so absurdly familiar. 

When the play comes to a close Brian, Freddie and Alexander are the first on their feet, clapping for all they are worth as the dancers curtsey and bow on stage. 

In the lobby several groups of people are mingling and just as Brian bends down to ask the children if they want something else to drink applause suddenly sweeps the room. Freddie and Alexander gasp in unison and as Brian looks up he jolts as he sees the eye-catching pink of the Sugar Plum Fairy’s costume walk into the foyer alongside the actors that had played Clara, Eric and Drosselmeyer. 

Freddie’s hand is suddenly in his, tugging at him with unrelenting enthusiasm: „Grandpa, look! Can we meet her? Please!“ Alexander nods so hard it looks like he has no bones in his neck for a second but Brian can’t answer, can’t speak as he watches the ballerina walk through the crowd, her back to them, nodding and curtseying along the way. He hesitates for one, two, three precious seconds, before he looks down at his grandchildren again and throws caution to the wind. 

„Of course“, he tells them, takes their hands as they cheer and goes to lead them through the throng of people. 

When they find her, she stands slightly apart from the crowd, her shoulders moving gently under her costume as she fiddles with one of the wild, golden locks that has fallen out of her updo and Brian speaks before the nerves can get to him.

“The Sugar Plum Fairy? …From the Land of Sweets, I presume?”

The Sugar Plum Fairy turns, and there is a smile on her face so wide it makes Brian want to smile back in reflex. 

It is in that moment that several things happen at the same time. 

First, Brian realizes that this Sugar Plum Fairy is almost definitely a man. 

Second, Freddie and Alexander, who had seemed more than ready to meet their new hero a few moments ago, now seem to have been struck mute by their proximity to the Sugar Plum Fairy and are hiding behind Brian’s legs. 

And third, when The Sugar Plum Fairy opens his mouth and speaks his first words to the children (“Why yes, ’tis I! Who do I have the honor of speaking with?”) Brian feels a sudden, crushing, terrifying rush of love, so strong it nearly knocks him off his feet. 

He knows that voice. 

Insane as it sounds. 

Impossible as it is. 

The Sugar Plum Fairy continues to speak to the children in gentle, calm tones, apparently knowing exactly how to rid them of their sudden shyness as he coaxes them out from behind Brian’s legs.

Rooted to the spot Brian can do nothing but watch as the Sugar Plum Fairy bends until he is nearly on his knees, just so he can speak properly to Brian’s grandchildren. All the while he looks like he could imagine nothing better than to crouch here, in the middle of a crowded foyer, in a no-doubt terribly uncomfortable costume, indulging two children’s curious questions about where he lives (The Land of Sweets, of course, but sometimes also Neverland), where his wings are (invisible to make them less of a hassle as long as he is tall) and if he believes in space (yes of course he does).

When Alexander boasts about Brian studying space he can’t help but smile, even through the pressure on his chest, even as he feels like he is floating instead of standing, even as he craves to hear the Sugar Plum Fairy speak again, speak forever as long as it means hearing that voice again.

And yet, despite his heart nearly beating out of his chest, Brian is completely unprepared for the large, vibrant blue eyes that look back at him when the Sugar Plum Fairy finally looks up. The moment lengthens, stretches, twists itself into something that sparks and settles in Brian’s stomach like a swallow of cheap vodka: warm, dizzy, very close to nausea. 

And then the moment snaps as someone calls out and the Sugar Plum Fairy rises to his feet again (the height difference is nearly laughable, Brian is several heads taller still and it feels somehow both wrong and utterly right). 

He curtsies to Freddie and Alexander, bends at the waist to blow both of them an air kiss and says goodbye with a mischievous smile before he turns around and leaves without a backward glance. 

Brian is left behind, his stomach somersaulting as he watches the bright costume and the brighter hair disappear between the people filling up the foyer. He knows that walk, knows that swagger that somehow translates smoothly into a graceful ballerina gait, the way the man turns at the waist while his feet are rooted to the ground, as if nothing could ever knock him off his feet. 

It is only with effort that he holds himself back from calling out, from calling him back. Instead he grasps both Freddie and Alexander, who are talking a mile a minute and seem to have developed a starry-eyed hero-worship for the Sugar Plum Fairy while Brian was staring into space, by the hands and gently leads them outside to his car to bring them home.

Brian is glad they had taken a cab to come, since he isn’t sure he should be driving with his head feeling as if it’s wrapped in cotton-wool. He drops the children off at his daughter’s house, all the while nodding at the right places as they talk over and around each other, nearly stumbling every time they get especially excited about re-telling something from the ballet. 

Once they are home and Brian back in the cab, he lets his head sink into the neck-rest and closes his eyes, breathing deeply and trying to shake the feeling of giddy, heart-racing terror that has settled in his chest. It’s a bizarre mix of joy and fear that suffuses him and it has him yearning for something he can’t name and doesn’t dare look at for fear of what he will find. 

When he arrives at home, he sees Anita’s car in the drive way and the sudden feeling of relief is so strong it nearly makes him stagger as he pays the cabby and walks towards the house. 

Anita, who has apparently just arrived, smiles as she sees him from where she is leaning on the counter, waiting for the kettle to heat and he doesn’t bother with removing his coat or his shoes before he walks over and hugs her to his chest. 

Her arms fold around him without pause and she draws him close and for the first time since the Sugar Plum Fairy (Brian hadn’t even caught the man’s _name_ ) had walked on stage he feels his heart settle. There are no words as they hold each other but when Brian feels like he can look up without breaking into an anxiety attack he lifts his head and gently extricates himself from his wife to take the kettle and fill her cup with boiling water. 

Anita takes it and tugs at his coat with a small smile: „Want join me and watch TV?“

Brian nods, and he is so grateful it nearly strangles him as he leaves to put his coat and his shoes away before he joins Anita who is already lying on the sofa and zapping through the channels without purpose. He sits down next to her and lays down, gathers her to him and arranges them until they both lie side by side. 

Anita doesn’t push, and she doesn’t need to. Brian, after several minutes of watching her mindlessly switching channels in an attempt to find something that isn’t reality TV, re-runs of EastEnders or American horror movies, finally manages to force his thoughts into some kind of order. 

He tells her, without leaving anything out. Tells her about the young ballet dancer who caught his attention, who walks with music in his blood and whose voice makes Brian want to cry with how beautiful, how familiar it is. Who had smiled at his grandchildren and seemed ecstatic to interact with them. Who had looked at Brian with eyes that seemed strangle out of place in such a young face. 

(Brian is not a loyal man, he knows this, and he hates himself for it. He had vowed to be better, years ago, had vowed that he would talk before it got bad again, and he would hold himself to that promise.)

And Anita, who is a better woman than Brian has ever deserved, listens to him, interjects here and there but tells him unmistakably that she wants to hear everything he has to say, and so Brian does. 

„Do you think you’re having a crush on him?“, she asks when Brian finally runs out of words to say and sinks back into the couch. Brian, who is grateful every day that his wife cares about him enough to talk through whatever issue his brain throws at him, that she loves him enough to trust him, thinks for a moment but then he shakes his head. 

„No, it feels different. I’m…“, he breaks off, „I…“ 

He gestures, his hand reaching for something he can’t grasp: „I feel like I know him… he feels like someone I should remember“ 

Anita’s hand gently cards through Brian’s white curls and she hums thoughtfully, completely on board with dis-entangling her husband’s strange and unexplained new attachment. 

„Maybe you should go and see him again“, she finally says and Brian freezes where he had been drawing circles on Anita’s back, „See what all of this is really about. Go meet him, properly this time“ 

He stays still as statue for a moment, but then he lifts himself up and draws Anita close, his hands grasping at her with something that is uncomfortable close to desperation. 

„Do you really think-”, Brian breaks off, stops himself before he can properly start but Anita knows him and she kisses his head, his hair, his forehead before she pulls his face up and kisses his lips, gentle as a dove’s feather. 

„Yes my love, I think you should go back and see him“

( _Later on, when Brian has long since given up staying away, Anita will come with him to the ballet. He and Beau, at that point, are already friends and he wants, no, needs Anita to know him. This young man who makes him so happy it shocks him sometimes._

_So, one evening, Anita will come with him and get to know Beau who, during that point in time, is playing Mary Vetsera in a beautiful but dreadfully complicated and definitely not child-appropriate rendition of Mayerling. To no one’s surprise they hit it off right away and spend the entire evening drinking wine and making fun of Brian’s social media habits. Brian can’t say he regrets introducing them._ )

And so Brian does what Anita says and a week later he sits in the audience once more, this time for Swan Lake, and waits, with baited breath, until the Black Swan finally steps out on stage, with blonde hair and a gnarled black crown on his head. 

And still, there is something about Odile that draws Brian in, something that pulls at him, something that tears at his heart and seems determined to rip a hole into his soul. 

Paradoxically it doesn‘t make Brian want to push the young man away but instead makes him want to hug him close, as inappropriate as that is. 

_You don’t even know his name_ , a voice inside him reminds him sternly but Brian can’t listen, can’t bother with social boundaries, not when he wants nothing more than to watch for the rest of his life how Odile twirls across the stage while he brings the prince under his spell. 

Brian can sympathize with the poor devil.

And still, he aches. As he watches Brian’s heart clenches, his fingers tremble as he buries them in the plush armchair beside himself and god help him, but he knows the man. There is something inside Brian, bone- no, soul-deep that looks at the man with an ache, a craving that has been inside him for decades, unsated, unsatisfied, unable to be quenched. 

Something that has suddenly woken up after years of dormancy. Something that insists that the unasked-for familiarity is real and not just a product of Brian’s questionable attraction to the most inconvenient of people. 

The Black Swan is magnetic, spell-binding in his grace and when Brian somehow manages to pull himself from the dance on stage long enough to look around, he realizes that it’s not just his own perception. With something that feels like a punch to the gut Brian sweeps his gaze across the audience and realizes that no one can look away. Odile moves on stage and the entire theatre draws a collective breath and holds it until the man (boy, Brian thinks, god he’s so _young_ ) leaves the stage again. 

And despite that fact that Anita had been the one who told him to go and meet the dancer Brian still feels like he is making a mistake as he carefully asks after the actor who plays Odile and is politely led to the backstage area where the dancers meet with the audience. 

For a moment there is nothing he can do, nothing he can think to say when he sees the golden curls barely tamed by the black crown resting on the boy’s head. He sees him lift his hands, each holding a pointe shoe and his nails, Brian realizes with a jolt that feels very much like panic, are painted black on one side and are blank on the other. 

When he finally finds his voice, he asks the question that burns on his soul like nothing else.

“Hello, Sugar Plum Fairy. Or shall I say Odile? Mr. Black Swan?”

The boy turns, and Brian can barely stop himself from staring. Birthmarks litter his skin. They are all over him, everywhere Brian looks and there is suddenly another image, superimposed over the marks on the boy’s skin, of a man, who had gained new marks every day and spent hours and hours covering them with make-up. 

Both sets of marks, the marks that had littered the skin of his best friend and which are burned into Brian’s memory, and the marks on the ballerina’s skin, match. But here they are fully in the open, no effort made to cover them up and Brian can’t help but look.

And Odile looks at him and smiles amusedly and speaks: “Beau is fine. Beauregard LaCroix.”

And even as he is surprised by the ballerina, Beau, knowing his name, Brian once again can’t help but be torn between tensing every muscle in his body and relaxing completely as he lets the boy’s words wash over him. 

Beau‘s voice is a bell, a viola, soft and sweet and sharp, but it can be an organ, a drum, an entire fucking orchestra if he really needs it to be and Brian know this because he Knows. That. Voice. 

He knows it down to his bones. It’s embedded in his heart, written in his DNA. He is hardwired to harmonize with it not matter the circumstances and it‘s impossible for him to do anything but sink into the sound, full and healthy and mischievous as Beauregard LaCroix asks him where his grandchildren are. 

And suddenly Brian has to scramble. He has no explanation and he feels his heart lurch, feels it stop and then beat thrice as fast. How must that look, he wonders, him standing here waiting for a boy he doesn’t even know, just because he can’t help but feel drawn to him.

“I came alone, actually.”, he finally admits.

Brian is pretty sure that there is an array of unflattering names they call people like that, but Beau seems to find it hilarious. 

He laughs, bright and so happy it makes Brian’s ache with painful joy: “Ah. Well, why wouldn’t you? I’m quite the show stopper, if I do say so myself.” 

To hear that beloved, impossible voice so free, so utterly un-inhibited as the ballerina teases him about coming to see him, feels like a gift he can never return: “But dear, I can get you free tickets. You needn’t go broke trying to see me.“

Brian starts to refute because really, if there is one thing he doesn’t lack for these days it’s money. 

But then Beau, without a pause, offers to meet him, offers a chance to get to know him: „In fact, would you like my number? Maybe we can have coffee sometime.” 

And Brian barely manages to think about it before a smile blooms across his face and he nods: „I’d like that very much.”

And despite the chilly evening outside, inside he feels as though he has spent the last hour drenched in afternoon sunlight, warm and safe. 

And even though he doesn’t believe in signs or miracles, Brian does wonder if maybe meeting Beau was a hint. 

Maybe, he thinks as he leaves the theater that evening after half an hour of conversation with Beau who is intelligent, sarcastic, quick-witted, funny and devastatingly charming when he isn’t being overcome with something that Brian would call shyness in anyone else but which lasts only seconds until it get buried under another smile, maybe Beau really is some kind of gentle push from another place. 

As he walks across the square towards where he has parked the car he stops, inexplicably and looks up. 

He allows himself several moments to simply breathe and watch the pale stars glow in the sky above him and for those moments he allows himself to wonder, to doubt, to fear. 

But above all, he allows himself to hope, that someone - someone very specific - is looking back at him.


End file.
